


Die Sonnenuntergänge in Wien (Sunsets in Vienna)

by Illilex0DarkFire



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Amputation, Berlin (City), Berlin to Vienna, Exodus - Freeform, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Major Character Injury, Major surgery, Malnutrition, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nekotalia, Nyotalia, Sexual Content, Spay/Neuter, Stray Life, Travel, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Vienna (city), Winter, calico cat, domestic life, new mother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illilex0DarkFire/pseuds/Illilex0DarkFire
Summary: A she-cat with no name, known to others simply as ‘The Calico’, is a resident of Berlin’s population of stray cats. Having difficulties with stray life, she is found by an albino tom with an obnoxious laugh during her heat cycle. Now with kittens, life becomes even harder as The Calico tries to find enough food for herself and her kittens. Leaving Berlin, she sets off in search of fresh hunting grounds, leaving her kittens behind. With Christmas right around the corner, The Calico finally stops on a front porch in Vienna Austria, and succumbs to the cold. She finds a new home with the stuffy cat that lives there, and his frying pan-wielding mate, and lives her life now as a house cat with little worries. Or so she thinks. Exposure to the cold and ownership causes new changes to her body, ones that she does not like. And an old presence will come back to haunt her.





	Die Sonnenuntergänge in Wien (Sunsets in Vienna)

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This chapter mentions feline sexual intercourse.

Berlin is beautiful this time of year. The humans hold festivals and the smell of food saturates the air. For Berlin’s population of stray cats, it is a time of plenty. The garbage cans overflow with half-eaten meals and humans can often be coerced into giving hand-outs. Indeed, for strays, summertime in Berlin represents the end of the cool weather famine.

Away from the bustling city streets, the man-made beaches of the city’s River Spree also teamed with life. I lied upon the golden sand as it warmed my fur and listened to the surroundings. I had recently snagged a half-eaten bratwurst from an overflowing trashcan. My tail twitched as I heard the voice of a little human not far away. Kitten-humans were a conundrum. On the one hand, they were easy to snag food from, but they were very grabby. The mothers were worse. Insults were the least of cats’ worries. Mothers were known to use rolled up newspapers and beat cats that got too close. I opened my eye to gaze out at the little guy. The tiny human carried a small cone with melting dairy on top. The cool treat would be nice on this hot day. My eyes zeroed in on the human’s hands. They were sure to be sticky with the cool treat. I knew from experience that I did not want those hands on me.

“Hans! Come back here!” The mother’s voice rang out. The small human turned and pointed in my direction. “Kitty!” “Hans, come on, we need to go! Daddy wants to go get dinner,” Hans’ ice cream dropped onto the sand and the boy started crying. “Don’t worry Hans, Mommy and Daddy will get you another one after dinner.” The mother started toward Hans.

I gazed over at the fallen dairy treat. It would be such a waste if only the ants got to enjoy it. I got up and scampered over to the sweet treat. I only got a few licks in when something grabbed my tail, and pulled.

“Kitty!”

“Hans, NO!” The mother ran towards her baby.

“MROW!” I turned and unsheathed my claws at the grabby child.

My claws found relief in the soft cheeks of the kitten-human. He let my tail go and fell back in the sand. Then he started to wail. Kitten-humans like Hans always made that sound. I slammed my ears down against my head and sprinted away.

“Hans!” Hans’s mother seized her kitten. Standing up, she shot her foot out and kicked sand my way. Then she rushed her kitten toward one of the humans’ roaring 4-wheel boxes.

The sand hit my behind and encouraged me to go faster. Hans’ crying had caused a scene. People nearby had gotten up and moved closer, creating a forest of legs. I weaved in between them. Some people jumped out of my way and hurled insults after me. Judging by the foreign sounds they made, they must have been tourists. I passed by other humans on the beach, all here for the festivities in the city.

It wasn’t until I saw the street vendors that I stopped running. Exhausted, I turned down several streets and passed many craft tents that had taken up temporary residence outside of my alleyway for the festival. I almost started playing with the little tassels that hung from the hand-made rugs a woman was selling, but the gritty feeling of sand on my behind was stronger and at that moment all I wanted to do was to groom myself. I walked into the alleyway hoping that I could rid myself of the sticky dairy treat that Hans’ hands had gotten all over my tail.

My house was nothing special. As a stray my selection was limited, and I didn’t have the comforts of a warm fire that I had once been blessed with. Other strays looked down on my home and called it shabby, but it was all that was available at the time. The dilapidated cardboard box fit right in with the other trash in the back alley. It had started out alright, but over the course of winter snow had weakened the roof. The alleyway protected me from the worst of the winds, but the box could do nothing about the slush that flew in off of the roaring 4-wheel box tires in the winter. During the spring snow melt and rain soaked the bottom of my box, turning it into rotted paste. I had to dig it out and move it somewhere else so the stench didn’t kill me. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

My mood darkened when I reached the back of the alley. _Oh come on!_ My box was completely destroyed. The roof had caved in so much that it touched the rotted out bottom. The stench was unbearable. _Oh well, I knew it was only a matter of time._ _Just my luck._ Now I had to go out and find myself a new one. That was the way stray life was: easy come, easy go. One never got too attached to their belongings because they didn’t last for long. I sighed and walked out onto the street. Fortunately, the easy summer months had just begun, so the hunt for a house would not be accompanied by the hunt for food.

I set back out on the streets, pausing at the rug maker’s stand. I eyed the dangling tassels, descending into a crouch. I followed their movements, how they would flutter when a human passed by. My tail twitched in anticipation. _Now!_ The light of day disappeared as I caught the tassel in my paws. I could hear muffled yelling coming from all around me. There was a heaviness on me that I could not understand. The blanket was too big for me to pull off of the stand. What happened?

The yelling got louder and soon a ray of sunlight shot into my eyes. Something grabbed hold of my scruff and lifted me out. There were concerned and angry noises everywhere.

“Damn cat! It took me a long time to get everything stacked just right so customers could come in and look at my wares. All that work ruined!”

“Aw, I hope the poor thing is alright.”

“She must have been attracted to the tassels. All cats like tassels.” This voice came from right beside me. I wiggled out of his grip and ran as fast as I could from the angry craft lady. If I wanted to find a good home, it needed to be away from angry humans. I decided to visit the one stray that that could get anything. I needed to visit Scratch.

My search for the feline-with-connections brought me past the food tents. The smell caused my stomach to growl. I had not eaten since the bratwurst. The problem with festivals was that they attracted a lot of people. While that meant that food was in decent supply, it also meant that there were more feet to be wary of. With the increase in food, other cats were bound to be there as well. Already I noticed a few cats in the area. Among the shops lining the street and the legs of many humans I saw another stray, Chicken, lounging under a food stall. The short-haired brown tabby was not named Chicken for a cowardly nature, but due to the fact that she loved poultry. I remembered the first time I met Chicken. She was a survivor. I encountered her after I had been exiled from my home by my Mistress’ nephew who had inherited her estate after she died. Cold, wet, and hungry, I walked through down town Berlin all alone. Chicken was the first cat I met. She did not have words of encouragement for me, but instead told me that I would be lucky if I survived the oncoming winter. It was only her directions to Scratch that got me where I was today. She didn't want to deal with me, but she must have seen me as a scared kitten at the time, so she sent me along to Scratch to ensure that if I died, it was not on her head. At the time she was nursing a litter of month-old kittens, so I could understand her desire to be selfish with her food. She had to give her kits the best chance at survival.

I weaved through the sea of legs, keeping to the sides of buildings as much as I could. As I got closer to the tabby, a wind picked up and caressed my body. I shuddered. It was not a caress like a loving head-to-tail stroke from a human, but one that smelled like a singing tom’s purr as he rubbed up against a queen’s side looking for only one thing. I stiffened. Chicken was in heat.

Queens in heat were grumpy and more territorial than usual. This was because they would need what territory they had for food that they needed to keep themselves, and kittens, alive. Their scent would alert nearby toms who would come over to investigate. If there were more than one, which was almost always the case, then the male competition would cause fights to break out. I approached carefully. If Chicken was in heat, then toms would be around. I had to be careful. I wasn’t experienced enough as a stray to provide for a litter of kittens.

“Chicken! How are you?” I asked as I scurried under the wooden stall of the owner. I tried not to sound too cheerful, this would set off Chicken.

“I am well Calico. And you?” Chicken responded, twitching her tail. This was a warning sign. As with the other animals, we strays lived a life of competition. Chicken was warning me that this food stall was hers, and hers only. Even with the onset of summer, cats still claimed territory.

I couldn’t tell if Chicken was telling the truth. My experience with heats was never good. The quickest way to get rid of the heat was to go through the painful mating process with a tom. Unless she was a masochist, she wouldn’t be fine. I spotted a few bald, scabby patches on her upper back. Almost as if someone had grabbed her to keep her from running away; something a tom would do to keep a queen still while he mated with her. She also wasn’t grumpy, which meant her heat had been attended to. Which could only mean-

I faced her and sat just within the tarp that lined the stall. I didn’t want to appear as a threat. “Chicken, did you-?”

Chicken lifted her head and gave me a smile. “Yes, Calico. I did. A few fine toms were in the area, and I was privy to a fantastic spectacle of tom competition. I shall be expecting a litter of kittens in a few months.”

“Really? Who’s the father?” Chicken was quite the promiscuous queen and would regularly flaunt herself in front of the toms when she was in heat. Of course, she was skilled enough as a stray to provide for a litter of kittens, something I could not do yet.

“There will be two. I just couldn’t decide on one, especially since they were so eager.” Chicken giggled, a far off look in her eyes.

I must have looked like I was gazing at an angel. The mating process for cats was painful, and most queens only put up with it to get the final result. For a queen to submit to two toms was something that was almost unheard of in the queen gossip circle. While we cats could use more than one partner, one was painful enough. Two would be horrible.

“Calm down, Calico, I am not some celebrity.” Chicken chuckled.

“You are a crazy cat, Chicken!” My eyes had still not returned to normal size, “How do you know those toms were worth it?!”

“Cali, those two toms beat out every other bachelor, even my previous mate. And do you want to know something else?”

Chicken’s words drew me in. I walked closer and laid down next to her.

“They were both house cats.”

“What?” My yowl caused many exclamations from humans. The owner of the stand looked around and spotted us in the back corner of his bright tent. Surprisingly, he made a sound akin to a purr and gave us some little bits of Weiner Schnitzel that he cut off of a larger piece. I let Chicken have mine, she needed it more.

When Chicken finished eating, she continued on with her story. “Yes, yes, I know right? House cats beating out seasoned strays in the competition to mate? Who has ever heard of such a thing? And to be honest, I never knew that house toms could mate. I mean everyone says they’re fixed!”

I was in utter amazement. I knew, of course, that the fate of a house cat’s ability to mate was held by its owner. Mine had kept all of her charges whole. I was lucky. But Chicken was still talking.

“Oh they were so gorgeous, those toms. One was a Russian Blue with a tri-color ribbon around his neck. Oh, how he was ridiculed by the others. He showed them he wasn’t ‘girly.’ And the other one was a light tan with large patches of brown on his back and head. I haven’t seen any breed like him before. He sported a tiny little cross on a red color. He was speed and agility while the Blue was all brute force. It gave me shivers watching them. They came out of the fight with absolutely no scrapes at all. The only sign they had been in a fight was the blood on their claws. Well, after seeing a spectacle like that, why wouldn’t I want their kittens? And you know what? That Russian Blue could throw his weight around in a fight, but when it came to intimacy, he was as caring as he could be. He told me afterwards that he didn’t like how he always hurt queens when he mated. Made me jealous that did. The other one, oh he was a charmer. He had a Spanish accent and was full of complements. I was in heaven. Afterwards the cats took off; the Spaniard said something about finding his friend. Turns out he wasn’t the only one in the group. One of the toms that had stood on the side got up and went with the two. He was a fine Persian, and by his accent he must have been French, but the poor thing had no experience in stray mating habits. He was very vain and looked appalled at the fights that were happening. I couldn’t believe he was out of his house if he was so worried about his figure. Just goes to show how some house cats should stay house cats. Right Calico?”

I ‘hmmed’ at her story. Such interesting characters these toms were. But very dangerous too. If they could win a fight against other toms without receiving wounds, then they could track down a queen in heat and not give her a choice.

“Calico, I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right.” I looked at Chicken. Her praise of the toms’ abilities had worn off, and now she was all business. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Calico, you are in no position to have kittens yet. If it wasn’t for my directions to Scratch that night, you would have died out on those streets. You should be careful, your heat’s coming up soon right?”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure what to do when that happened. I would likely have to move to the rooftops to avoid any confrontation. But there was no food there.

“Well then, if you want to only have to provide for yourself, you should stay away from those toms. They could catch you easily. And any kittens of yours would die before they were born.” Chicken sat up and looked down at me.

“I understand, Chicken.” I knew she was right. I was a lousy stray. It was hard to handle the responsibilities that were thrust upon me now that I had no owner. If I had kittens to provide for, I would have to find so much more food than I currently made do with. There was no way that they could survive with a mom like me. I would have to get better.

With a quick ‘goodbye’ and a ‘congratulations,’ I left Chicken to get food somewhere else. I didn’t want to make it harder for a pregnant queen to get food. I moseyed back out into the streets and followed the music. I found the source about three blocks down the street Chicken was on. By the smell of the area less meat was offered here; this must be the area devoted to sweets and pastries. That didn’t mean that the amount of cats was less though. I noticed some humans dressed differently than the others. The tom-humans wore funny straps on their chests and the queen-humans wore cloth that was cut so high that a sudden swaying hip could show off their tails! A small confectionary fell nearby and was left alone. I scampered in and snagged it before any other stray noticed. Noting the flavor, I realized this was Apfelstrudel, a cinnamon, raisin, and apple pastry that was best when warm. This one must have been sitting out for a while.

I found my target feline a few stands down, sitting by a large section of barrels. These were the alcohol barrels. One sniff could alert a cat as to what kind of alcohol was in them. The strong hop smell meant beer, the light fruit-but-bitter smell was wine. I once had some wine during the last major fall festival. I don’t remember what happened that night. No one who was there talks about it. I hopped up onto one of the barrels.

“Hello, Scratch. I thought I’d find you here.” I gave a small smile.

Scratch was an orange tabby with a small black spot on his toe. His name came from his love of causing trouble at the newspaper stands. He was a fatter cat, and was often teased by the other toms for his lack of fertility. As such, he was the only tom I ever talked to.

Scratch had a way with the humans. That’s how he sustained a larger mass for most of the year. He was the only generous one around. He had been the one to find me the cardboard box that had gotten me through the winter. And now I was coming to ask for a replacement.

“Hello, Calico. Fine day isn’t it?” Scratch stretched and showcased his large belly. “Is there something you need?”

“Oh no, I was just prowling around looking for food. Unless you know of a good place to stay? The boxy you got me got rained out.”

“Hm. I am sorry to hear about that. But I was expecting it. That box was a last resort, you see. Boxes in general are a temporary home. Well, yours isn’t the only case of water damage. I heard from some queens that most of the housing has been rained out on the east side. You would think that ever since that side was spruced up there would be better housing for us cats. But no! Housing over there is just as awful as it ever was. That being said dear, I don’t have any new housing sniffed out. Only some new small businesses that have taken up residence in the East. You can stay the night if you must.”

I sniffed. Just my luck. I had been praying for a break during the time of plenty. I guess ‘plenty’ didn’t include a secure place to call home.

“If that’s alright with you Scratch, I would love to stay at your place.”

“I have other news for you Cali.” Scratch’s voice dropped some and his tail twitched in agitation. “Tom sightings have risen in this sector of the city. I have heard from the local queens that a trio of toms has been sighted multiple times in the area.”

_Surely not the same ones Chicken was talking about?_ I curled my tail around my legs.

“You don’t have to tell me Scratch, I’ve already talked to Chicken.”

Scratch looked a little miffed at being left out of the gossip train. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that that this time the toms are house cats.” When I gave no indication that this was news, he continued.

“They are said to be quite the charmers and very prolific maters. I had a run-in myself with one of them. A flamboyant, white, Persian with blue eyes and a tricolor collar. To my surprise, this one was French.”

“Wait! Was there a Russian Blue with a tricolor ribbon around his neck and a Spanish two-toned cat with a red collar and a cross?” I had to know if this was the same group that Chicken had met.

Scratch looked at me. “Well, there wasn’t a Russian Blue, but there was an Albino with a scar over his right eye. He was German.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought it was the same group that Chicken was telling me about.”

“Anyway, he came over and told me how sorry he was that I could no longer have kittens and how much of a waste it was. Well I wasn’t going to sit there and take _scheisse_ from him, but you know what he did? He pulled a rose out of his fur and gave it to me. What do you think about that?”

I gave a snarl, “I think that he’s a _Ficken_ piece of _scheisse_ for calling you out like that. Just because your old humans altered you doesn’t mean you are any less than them. And that Frenchie can go back to his hoity-toity house in Paris if he thinks that he is superior you Scratch.”

“Aw, Calico, I’m glad you don’t think I’m worthless.”

“Scratch, just forget about the Frog’s words. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” My stomach growled, still not sated from the _Apfelstrudel_ from earlier.

“Someone’s hungry. Come on, I’ll get us something.” Scratch chuckled and started trotting towards one of the booths. We weaved through dancers’ legs and went past humans playing very loud instruments with a plethora of buttons. At the vendor, Scratch went up and rubbed against the human’s legs, then rolled over onto his back. The human was taken by Scratch and after a little belly rub he was given a small pastry. After spotting me, the vendor gave a knowing look and handed me a treat too. It wasn’t wurst, but it was something to tide me over for the oncoming night. We then exited the stall after thanking the owner with leg rubs and went on our way to Scratch’s place.

It was always a trek to get to Scratch’s home. He lived behind a McDonalds on the outskirts of the city. Every day he would traverse the city blocks to find a newspaper stand to observe. He said he liked to listen in on the conversation. However, due to his bad habits, he was run out of the store as soon as he was spotted so that he couldn’t use its informative contents for his claw exercises.

Fortunately for us, the McDonalds would not be crowded today because of the festival, so there would be less four-wheeled boxes about. This meant that we didn’t have to worry as much as we crossed the streets. Unfortunately, the McDonalds was closer to suburban homes, so there were often house-cats in the area. This was true today. I could see many house-toms and queens with their little collars roaming about. My fur bristled a bit as we passed a few well-groomed cats. They both had flashy collars and some had ribbons or bows in their fur. They looked at us with disdain. It was the cat equivalent of the look some pale humans had when they saw another of their kind with extra cloth on their heads.

“Well hello there _monsieur_. It is so good to see you again. Oh, and you have a _belle fille_ with you this time! How _magnifique_!” A voice called out.

I looked over at the speaker. It was a white Persian with a red rose tucked by his ear. I noticed he had come from a clowder of house-queens. All of them had shiny fur and smelled of various cleaning articles humans would use. I felt Scratch tense up beside me. I didn’t know what to say to this cat.

“Oi, Laurent! What have you got there?” this one was a German cat. I looked over at him. This tom was albino with a scratch over his right eye. He also wore a torn up ribbon of the cloth that flew over important people buildings.

“Why hello there, _Frau_. What brings you to this neck of the woods? Finally notice that house-toms are better mates?” This cat looked over at Scratch. “Well, well, what have we here? A sterile tom.” His laughter was weird, and was echoed by a new voice.

“ _Que_? A sterile stray-tom? What happened here?” This cat was a brown tom with darker patches on his back and half of his face. He wore a red collar with a silver cross.

Scratch walked out from behind me fluffed up his fur. He was not the kind of cat to let another bruise his pride.

“Now, now, _mon amis_ , it is nothing to be ashamed of. Love is not just about mating, no?” The Persian once again stepped into the spot light.

“Who are you house-toms? What purpose do you have here? Go back to your masters in your funny little homes.” I hissed. This situation was not one I liked. Toms were known to mate with queens even when they weren’t in heat, and the only safe tom here was Scratch. The number of hostile toms was far greater than I.

“Oh, where are our manners? I’m sorry _Frau_. I am the Awesome Frederick!” the Albino shouted. Nearby cats flicked their tails in annoyance.

“And I am the Lovely Laurent.” The French Persian introduced. He plucked a rose from somewhere and gave it to me.

“ _Me llamo_ Francisco, _chica_.” Said the Spanish tom. He seemed the happiest of the bunch.

“I don’t care what your names are, I want to know what you are doing here! This is stray territory. Get out!” I hissed. I hoped my actions were believable; I didn’t stand a chance against three fit toms.

Scratch came up beside me and also got ready to pounce.

“Oh? So the little princess thinks she can fight the Bad Tom Trio?”

_What?!_

“The Bad Tom Trio?” I must have looked skeptical.

“ _Oui_ , that is our name.”

“ _Und_ you’d better be careful _Frau_ , my awesomeness can make any queen see the light.”

“I heard calicos are rare. I like rare things _chica_.”

“Oh, please Francisco, your glory days on the high seas are over.”

“Well, they lasted longer than yours, Laurent.”

I looked on as the Persian and splotched toms started arguing. The albino looked like this was a normal occurrence.

Out of nowhere water splashed on the two toms. Or at least that was the intention. The rest of us got splashed too.

“Shoo! Shoo! Go on, get out of here!” a teenager with a red shirt with yellow arches stood with a small bucket.

Scratch seemed to look relieved as he went to the uniformed human and rubbed up against his legs. The human picked him up and took him over to the back of the McDonalds where he set him down.

“There you go Scratch. Try not to get into too much trouble next time,” he looked over at me. “And try to keep things down tonight okay?”

Both of us blushed. The boy wasn’t stupid, he knew Scratch wasn’t able to mate. The human chuckled and pat us both on the head before placing a small plastic bowl down with water.

“There you go guys. Have a good night.” The boy went back inside the cool McDonalds.

I looked around. Scratch’s home hadn’t changed that much. It was still much finer than mine. He had water that was filled every day by the boy that worked at the McDonalds. His bed was an old metal trashcan that had a sign on it, making sure that the trash collectors did not disturb the cat’s peace. Scratch was a king in this area. It made me realize just how inferior I was to this stray.

“Scratch-” “Don’t worry about it Cali. Stray life is hard. Most cats look out only for themselves, but I have found that compassion for others can make life easier out here. That’s what the humans do. This young man found me out here one day after I had been dumped by my family, and he gave me a shelter and water. In return, I kept the rats away from the building, and the Health department hasn’t been called once. You’ll get used to stray life. You will survive.”

“Thank you, Scratch.” He had said those things to me when I first encountered him in Berlin.

“No problem Cali. Now go to sleep. You can have the Bin. I’ll stay outside tonight. And no arguing.” He cut me off with one of his looks.

I nodded and with a final ‘thank you’ and ‘good night’ I went to sleep, listening to the sounds of the festival.


End file.
